Red, Black, and Yellow
by PaperInkFlowers
Summary: Red and black, a friendly jack. Red and yellow, a deadly fellow. (Renard and Tavitian slash.)


**Warning:** Uses the noncon/dubcon nature of events in Face-Off. Might be triggery for some.

Author Notes: I make no claims of ownership of Grimm and its respective characters. This is not meant to impede anyone on the show their jobs. I'm just dealing with a pesky thought that won't leave me alone.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

That… hadn't been part of the plan.

Alcohol wasn't an excuse; he barely touched his glass of red wine.

Whatever the hell possessed him to tell the truth?

In fact, he was going to do his utmost to keep the subject of Grimms from coming up. Already prepared himself with evasive lies. Buy himself some time… Nick's powers could still return. He was looking forward to their clandestine meeting and he wanted it to go smoothly.

But when Tavitian arrived in Portland for another face to face he found himself saying that his situation had changed and he no longer had a Grimm.

The words were out of his mouth before he knew it and he blinked in surprise.

Tavitian watched him for a second before lifting his glass of scotch.

The man was laughing at him.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

Later that night he worries what that admission will cost him. If he's now become more of a liability than asset.

He had explained that his Grimm's state may not be permanent. But it wasn't a promise.

And Tavitian didn't promise anything in return.

The rest of the meeting was little more than updated gossip. Albeit important gossip.

He picks up the bar's business card off his nightstand and flips it between his fingers. A new phone number for him to reach Tavitian by jotted on the back. The handwriting bold and jaggedly formal in black ink. Underneath the numbers was a request.

_Call me when things change._

Taking a lighter from the wooden drawer, Sean sets it aflame, dropping it into an empty metal bin. He's already had the number memorized.

Climbing underneath the wool bedsheets, he puts the self admonishments out of mind.

He'll deal with Tavitian when he has to.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

It's three nights later. He's in his study going through mail and there's a Portland postcard featuring the regal teacup blooms of the Rose Test Garden.

_Portland is interesting. Show me the city next time._

No name, but Sean recognizes the handwriting.

The precinct's location was written as the sending address.

He's not troubled. It wasn't meant as a threat. His professional life wasn't a secret and he'd expect Tavitian to gather any intelligence he could on him. Sean would doubt his capability if he hadn't.

Thoughtfully, he thumbs at the stiff paper corner, the edge digging into his skin. There wasn't anything important written on it, yet his home had been broken into enough times. Keeping something that seemed utterly trivial would be a clue itself.

Ripping up the card and burying the pieces in the ashes of the fireplace, he thinks about where he would even take Tavitian. His city was more odd than anything else.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

It's another month before he meets Tavitian again.

They discussed how Portland was being used as a transit point for people fleeing the Families and the Verrat. The docking ports and routes to Canada were convenient since Sean was the only one having them monitored and he wasn't interested in refugees.

Afterwards, Sean gave him a tour of his city.

The next day they went to the Rose Test Garden.

Just in time too. The roses were losing their blooms as fall approached.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

A few days after he's pulling a late night typing up a formal explanation for an embarrassing jurisdictional mix-up to the district attorney when the memory of Tavitian laughing at him abruptly interrupts his thoughts.

Rolling his eyes at himself, he puts his mind back on the task at hand.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

Softly tapping his fingers on the right leather armrest he listens to the update on the latest homicide Nick and Hank were working on. They needed extra manpower and horses for a trap they were setting. After a moments thought he gives them his approval and sends for the lieutenant in charged of their mounted force.

The duo leaves and he relaxes in relief as his mind wanders back to Tavitian.

Sebastian reported that the Verrat caught a lucky break in Vienna. An almost successful ambush if Meisner hadn't sensed something was suspicious with the local authorities' patrol patterns.

They were able to leave without being noticed, but it was too risky to stay in Austria.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

Another postcard arrives a month later. This time from France.

_The wines are not as I remembered. This climate no longer suits me._

Tavitian might prefer Italian wines he thinks as he shreds the postcard, then lights the fireplace.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

He's staring at the empty passenger seat, clearly remembering Tavitian sitting there smiling in pleasure at his laughter. He had just finished telling how the Verrat accidentally outed a married Royal's affair with a celebrity through a series of incompetence in their search for him. It had been an entertaining public scandal back then that went on for months and Sean had indulged in the pleasure of reading the tabloids. Now that he knew the complete story it made the situation even funnier.

It has been a very long time since Sean laughed like that.

He's keenly aware of the fact.

Finally he turns away and leans back into his seat. A frown furrows his brows.

He remembers this.

… he remembers Juliette.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

Blood was splattered over the walls and the crime scene was littered with broken porcelain.

There's a world map hanging on the wall of the victim's house.

It's the vast ocean which separates Portland and Europe that holds his attention.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

Tavitian won't leave his mind.

Everyday…

He's been resisting the temptation to give him a social call.

Nights were restless as he fought against prickly tension for sleep. There's a nauseating clench in his stomach that's becoming a regular occurrence.

He doesn't resort to drinking this time.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

Despite the suspicions, when Tavitian calls he's practically giddy at the sound of his voice.

The Resistance were convening in Switzerland soon and Tavitian advised him to attend.

Sean is smiling at his phone when there's a knock on his office door and his elation crashes.

It's Nick and Juliette waiting outside.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

The meeting is long over and they're in a cheap but well-kept hotel that accepted cash.

Tavitian steps closers. Drawn down by the familiar inexplicable pull, Sean was prepare for the maddening flush of heat to sweep over him as he leans over. Lips crushed together, Sean presses his body against Tavitian's, almost pushing the shorter man backwards but Tavitian steadies himself, his hands sinking into brown locks of hair.

_Pushed against the wall, Juliette clutched his head, pulling him down to meet her mouth at an angle that was uncomfortable, piercing through the haze of lust, and he forces her away by the shoulders._

Grimacing, he shoves himself off, nearly stumbling as he gets a hold of himself. He doesn't want to do this. Breathing heavily, watching Tavitian warily, ready for that flash of frustrated anger.

And Tavitian- chest slightly heaving, breathes in deeply and lets out a long, quiet breath. His expression calm and kind and in perfect control, he reaches out.

"… it's alright." Tavitian's rough fingertips gently touches his cheeks. "Let's slow down."

_Thin, delicate fingers lightly stroked his face, as Adalind gave cooing comfort that hid triumphant amusement, and he recoils._

He flinches.

Tavitian draws his hands away and takes a step back.

The attempted tryst ended in awkward farewells. Sean flees wondering when did this happen.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

One week after Switzerland and they're in a secluded wooden lodge, the fireplace unlit even as the Portland freezing winter rain heavily came down.

"Why," Sean demands as he points a handgun at a coldly furious Tavitian, the man's hands kept away from his sides.

"What are you talking about, you Royal bastard?" Tavitian holds his gaze with deadly intensity, but there's also disappointment in his eyes. Then a look of disgust twists his face. "I should have known better."

"Bastard? You did this." Sean is incredulous and he wants to start hitting the man. "We barely know each other and you're not affected. So it has to be you," he accuses, his voice finally rising in anger at the deception. "What the hell did you wanted from me?!"

"Sean…" Tavitian frowns, his eyes taking him in and Sean tenses, trying not to look as haggard as he felt. He's not up for a round of mind games. "What is it that you think I did to you?"

"Stop it." Sean clenches his jaw, steeling himself, refusing to let Tavitian prolong the charade. "You didn't expect me to been cursed with an obsession spell before," he mocked, bracing himself for some verbal sparring. "I was lucky to survive it. So just tell me what you want."

Sean waits for another denial, but he's really expecting a gloating grin, and he's ready to put a bullet into the man because he's had enough of this.

He gets neither.

"The first time I fell in love… she was someone I couldn't get out of my head. I was young and it was overwhelming." Tavitian speaks softly, his eyes never leaving Sean's. "I had other affairs after that. Sometimes, it felt the same." Tavitian takes a small step towards him. "I would remember a moment. Hear a laugh. What we did. It was hard not to think about her." Slowly, he moves another step forward.

Sean unconsciously takes a step back as a sliver of doubt slides into his certainty.

"Do not shoot me," Tavitian asks quietly, moving forward again.

He's thinking of firing his gun into the floorboards as a warning shot when he senses another presence behind him and he ducks, evading the blow to the head, but not fast enough to dodge Meisner's fist from sinking into his solar plexus.

As he's gasping for air Meisner wraps an arm around his throat.

"Martin!"

Darkness envelops him as Tavitian shouts in German.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

Only Meisner is there when he wakes up.

They stare at each other in distrustful silence.

"Were you always here with him?" Sean finally asks suspiciously.

Meisner's eyes narrows. "No, actually. I insisted this time. Good thing too, I see."

Sean withstands Meisner's critical gaze unflinchingly, refusing to be cowed. "Why are you still here?"

"You mean why are you still alive?" Meisner responds tartly in clipped English. "Tavitian wants to keep our alliance."

"And you?"

"Me?" Meisner seems to have finish scrutinizing him and stands up. "I executed Breslau for sharing information with his lover." He pauses letting the memory sink in for Sean. "You remember, yes?"

He doesn't answer the rhetorical question and watches Meisner open the door.

"I won't let Tavitian get that far." Meisner turns to look at him. "Don't make me kill you."

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

There are moments when he's in his car, hearing his officers laugh, dining out, going over reports… that he suddenly feels pathetic and abandoned.

He's waiting for the feelings to disappear. All of it.

Yet he's walking into a gift shop a few blocks away from his precinct.

Looking for that postcard of the Rose Test Garden.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~

**A/N:** I swear I set out with a happy fic in mind. Really! I wrote this because the song Tubby Wubby Pony Waifu* always reminds me of these two. (Ignoring the pony parts of course. Yes, it's sappy.) Which makes me want to write. Every single time. Without fail. Becoming annoying because busy and can't write ship without it growing big, but it's starting to nag at me. So finally I sat down. Wrote something. Am hoping it'll go away now. (*Check out the version of the song featuring Feather.)

~v~^~v~^~v~^~


End file.
